


The Way Back

by Clocketpatch



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7302844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocketpatch/pseuds/Clocketpatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Writing for hurt_comfort_bingo round 7. The prompt is falling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way Back

The only part of the world that matters right now exists in two dimensions. There is up, where I want to go. There is down, where I most emphatically do not want to end up. And there is the side to side scrabble as I creep back and forth searching for better footholds or little bits of vegetation to cling to. In front of me is unforgiving, crumbly rock. I have to go sidewise to go up. Behind me is nothing.  
So, up and down, left and right. The rock isn't strong enough to support me for more than a few minutes at a time. If I stay still it will collapse and I will fall. If I keep going, limbs straining, fingers cramping, heart pounding – if I can keep going. Eventually, I will reach the top. I believe. I must believe. I cannot look up towards the summit, because doing so will take my attention off of my sidewise shuffle. I need to keep my eyes forward.  
There is a rock, grab it. That patch of juniper, cling to it. That grey outcrop is undercut, avoid it. Those red stones are loose, move quickly.  
I must pay attention, or I will fall.  
I cannot look down, or the abyss will draw me.  
Once, the world had more dimensions. Once forwards and backwards were more than rock and void. They were real places I could move into. Once, the world was full of life.  
No.  
The world is still full of life: there are sideways trees, and blue/green junipers, and fresh-scented sage. There are tiny dwarf cactus with their laughing yellow blossoms and dangerous spines. Rusty lichen spills across crystalline boulders (I must not put my foot there; see how it shifts?) Pale yellow and green tuffs of grass spill out of crevasses. Song birds chirp. Insects buzz. Eagles scream. Squirrels scurry. I cling.  
I creep.  
I hope.  
I hold on, out of place, dreaming of a flatland where I can stand/walk/run.  
I slip.  
The world tumbles and I see that it was never just up/down, left/right. The sky is a vast chamber above me and for a moment I think that maybe I'm falling up. The blazing blue dome envelopes me. The tiny scurry clouds are painfully white. The sun sears across one corner of the heavens. The moons is a barely-there ghost witness at its edge. The wind ruffles my hair. There are no disparate parts. Cliff or plain, earth or sky - all are part of the same unified, undulating universe. I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable impact.  
Once, I walked on the ground. Once, I willingly climbed down a cliff, out of curiosity, to see what I might see at the bottom. Once, a cloud passed across the sky and the smell and refreshing plip-plop of the first drops of rain came with it. The distant rumble of a storm I could have weathered if I hadn't been so foolish. Once, I tried to climb back to safety as the weather shifted around me; a soaking, destabilizing storm, and then the sun again, as if nothing had ever happened. Except the cliff I'd climbed down so easily had changed from solid ground to sliding rocks and gripless mud. Once, I tried to climb back to where I'd began.  
Once, I fell.  
Hitting the jagged earth at the bottom of the valley doesn't kill me. It hurts, but my bones are not shattered. A tangled thatch of brambles breaks my fall. The thorns sting as they save me. I wait a moment, to catch my breath.  
Then I climb again.


End file.
